


through the blood on your lips, tell me that you love me

by thornapple (survivalinstinctvalkyria)



Category: Ensemble Stars! (Video Game)
Genre: I'm back on my bs, M/M, Yakuza/Agent AU, the sexual tension is strong in this one
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-28
Updated: 2019-05-28
Packaged: 2020-03-26 10:50:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19004260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/survivalinstinctvalkyria/pseuds/thornapple
Summary: 『Two years ago, he was a part of that agency, another straight-laced man dressed in a suit and armed with a gun. It's so odd to think that he may get the chance to kill its leader is nothing short of strange, and he keeps getting the feeling that this isn't right, like he's reading a manga and disagreeing with every choice the protagonist makes. Just odd. 』





	through the blood on your lips, tell me that you love me

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally from the Kuro Yakuza gacha, but I dropped it. I picked it up after Keito's new gacha was shown last night and finished a chapter's worth on the bus to and from a school trip
> 
> Hopefully posting it in chapters instead of as a oneshot will get me to finish it (she says, knowing full well that she never wrote the second chapter of home-made stars)
> 
> I still have sand in my eyes from the field trip so I can't see typos

Like always, Keito does everything seamlessly. There's no reason to be sloppy, even if he is a Yakuza.

Every move is calculated, every step and shot, and even the way his undone tie falls around his shoulders is something chosen, planned, and executed.

Most of the agents that were deployed are down, and he knows only their leader is left. It'd been an easy count for him, mentally tallying how many of his old friends’ corpses he found, and the knowledge that it all comes down to him to eliminate their leader.

Their leader. Keito thinks of that man, with perfect features, a perfect voice, and perfect charisma, and feels an anxious bile rise to his throat, but he chokes it down by reminding himself that this isn't about relationships — it's about ideals, and power.

Two years ago, he was a part of that agency, another straight-laced man dressed in a suit and armed with a gun. To think that he may get the chance to kill its leader is nothing short of strange, and he keeps getting the feeling that this isn't right, like he's reading a manga and disagreeing with every choice the protagonist makes. Just odd.

He's tries to dissuade himself that it's because of any other reason, he tries to forget about those late nights he'd spent daydreaming about that man, planning meticulous love confessions and dates, all those years that he'd prayed for that man — Eichi — instead of himself.

He wants to forget, he needs to forget, because he might just end up killing Eichi, or being killed by Eichi, so he can't let his hand falter.

He tries not to think about the irony of growing up with someone while trying to take care of them only to, in the end, take their life. That's too complex a topic, when he has so many other variables to being keeping track of.

But he can't help but think of how surprised Eichi must've been when he first found out that his precious Keito had left him willingly, and not only that, but also risen in the ranks of the enemy group. It isn't like he came to the enemy on purpose, just that he couldn't stay in the agency anymore. Not without his constant criticisms of their morals, their abuse of power, Eichi's restlessness. He'd loved Eichi, as shameful as it feels to admit, but that hadn't been considering Eichi's career. He loved Eichi as a young child, and as they got older, that love had evolved, but so had Eichi — he'd grown from that spoiled young master, into a terrifying man with the will and wit to execute any and all of his dreams, someone who nimbly danced along the fine line of world domination and harrowing loneliness.

Soon, he'd become utterly reckless, not caring what boundaries he overstepped, always moving ahead for some hazy, undefined goal, with an agenda that not even Keito could understand. From the moment he realized that he wasn't satisfied working under Eichi, it had been a blur bridging him from his old position to his new position, working just under Kuro.

Eichi must be suicidal, he thinks as he finally finds the blonde, surveying around from an empty plaza, possibly the worst place he could be hiding. This is where it ends, isn't it? Keito's aim has always been his strong point, and he knows that Eichi's much weaker than any of his other targets. He ducks behind a wall, watching as Eichi calmly looks out over the abandoned buildings, bathed in moonlight and looking impossibly angelic for someone who's killed so many.

All Keito has to do is raise his hand, shoot while Eichi's still in a calm, while he's still unaware that his childhood friend is preying on him.

But he can't.

Not when the first image that comes to his mind is Eichi sprawled out on the ground, bleeding and crying and _dying_ in pain. The last thing he would've wanted would be for Eichi to die like that, dirtied beyond repair, so he slowly slides his gun into the holster. He can just knock him out, he reasons, getting ready to pounce. He can knock him out, take him back to HQ, and stab him in the heart while he's sleeping, in what Keito hopes will be a painless, beautiful death, one only befitting of him.

When Eichi's back is turned, Keito rises, and lunges at him, and when he sees that one of Eichi's hands holds a gun, he grabs onto it, aiming the gun towards an empty building, and bracing himself for Eichi to panic and shoot, which he does, and in the next moment, there's a loud bang off towards the distance. Keito's behind Eichi, his left hand holding onto Eichi's left wrist. From so close, he can feel Eichi's body tremble slightly in nervousness, he can hear the way his breathing speeds up, he can see the sweat at the back of Eichi's neck. Eichi twists, curling in on himself so that he can throw a punch over his shoulder. Keito dodges, wrapping his free arm around Eichi's torso to restrain his movements and simply leaning out of the way.

He underestimated Eichi's strength it seems, because he can't seem to get Eichi to stay still. The blonde flails in his arms, struggling violently as he tries to push Keito off. They shuffle awkwardly, and Keito's almost surprised by the way that Eichi tries to kick at his calves — not childishly or teasingly, but with the clear intent to keep himself safe, no longer holding the grandeur of a blessed scion, but that of a man desperately fighting to survive — that is, until he remembers that Eichi has no idea who's behind him.

“Stay still,” he growls, even though he knows the last thing that Eichi needs to know is that it's Keito who's trying to kill him.

Eichi freezes instantly, tensing up for just long enough that Keito can knock the gun out of his hand, before turning him around so that he can hold Eichi's hands behind his back while still keeping his own arms wrapped around his body. Eichi jerks, trying to headbutt Keito away.

“Get off of me,” Eichi bites out, practically hissing into Keito ear. His breath is ragged, and it shivers.

“I have a job to do. Don't think that I'm not going to do it.”

“Do you really think you could kill me?”

Ah, he's right, Keito should've just called backup and been done with it, but he didn't and he feels stupid to think that the only reason for that is the fact that he couldn't bear to just send Eichi off to his death like that. Some selfish part of himself at least wants it to be him to he the one who sends Eichi off.

He manages to push Eichi against a wall, Eichi drawing in a sharp breath as he finds himself pressed between Keito and the wall. With Eichi's arms pinned against the concrete, Keito manages to free one of his own so that he can try and reach for some of the handcuffs Kuro had given him. _“It'll be easier for you to do close-range fightin’ with these,”_ he'd said, and Keito understands because this will all be so much easier once he can use both hands. Eichi doesn't seem to have any intention of giving up, so it's a bit difficult to get the handcuffs on, but once they are, Keito's finally able to let himself breathe.

Eichi pants under him, still violently kicking him.

“Get off, get off!” His voice is gravelly as he yells, shaking so erratically that he ends up hitting the back of his head on the wall. He hisses in pain, head falling to the side as he winces, but he doesn't stop trying to push Keito away, thrusting his shoulder forward when the other man takes a step closer.

“I might die if I let you live, you know,” Keito tells him, pressing his upper body to Eichi's and trapping Eichi's legs with his own.

“Then die,” Eichi growls, and only now does Keito see how inhumane the look on his face is, how the vibrancy of his eyes seems to be overpowered by shadows. One of Keito's hands travels up his neck, causing Eichi to shiver, his entire body shaking under Keito touch, before he turns to try and bite at Keito's forearm. “You should know better than anyone — I can't allow myself to die. I refuse to, I have too much to live for. You, on the other hand, have nothing, considering how easily you abandoned all of us.”

Keito bites back anything he could've thought to say, because none of it sounds right, none of it is worthy of having Eichi listen to it. His hand doesn't falter as it traces around the back of Eichi's neck, sliding up, until he feels something sticky against his chest and fingers. He moves further, and when his fingers press against Eichi's injury, the blonde practically wails in pain, choking back the humiliating noise in the next moment only to throw his head against Keito's shoulder, and whimper. His tears are hot against the fabric of his blazer, and to Keito, it feels like the heat is everywhere on his body. Eichi shouldn't be trying to gnaw through the fabric, because Keito's taken back to those nights when they'd had too much adrenaline to sit still, the moment when he'd admired the scars scattered over his naked torso, and the one time that Eichi had nearly killed Keito a month after Keito had left, when he stared Keito down just behind the barrel of his gun, face dangerous in every sense of the word, and right before Kuro had rescued him, Keito had thought: damn, he's hot.

Eichi's gone absolutely feral, kicking, twitching, and biting, and Keito can hear him struggling against the restraints. Keito wants to tell him to stop, he doesn't want Eichi to be left with bruises, as ironic as that is, but he can't, so he stays silent, bringing his hands up to cup Eichi's face and keep it still. His shins hurt like hell, but he figures that that's sacrifice that he has to make.

Eichi looks like an absolutely mess, face red and tear-streaked, and Keito assumes he can't be much better himself.

“Is this the end, Keito?” It's cruel of him to use Keito's given name, because all Keito can see is the face of that lonely child crying in fear of death.

“I… I'll try to make it quick, Eichi, I…” he trails off, unsure of if he's even allowed to say anything when he's allowed to kill the man he's loved for years.

Eichi sighs, and says nothing, falling into Keito's arms almost completely limp. Keito wonders if it's because of his injuries from earlier that he's only now giving up, because Eichi does everything graciously, even death it seems. Feeling the blonde heaving against his chest, Keito can't help wrapping his arms around him, stroking his back as he rests his cheek against Eichi's forehead.

“Get off.”

Keito half expects Eichi to start kicking again, but he doesn't, he just sits there and groans against Keito's chest.

“I don't think you're in any position to be bossing me around.”

“I don't care. I hate you.”

Pushing himself off of Keito, Eichi leans back against the wall, looking like he's ready to topple over and die at any moment. Just one gunshot, Keito tells himself, just one gunshot, and he can end all of Eichi's pain and suffering.

Keito pulls his gun out of it's holster, and sees a dangerous glint in Eichi's eyes. His right index finger gropes the trigger lightly, and as he begins his silent count off, Eichi parts his lips to speak.

_3…_

“Even if you kill me, Keito, you're going to be the one who suffers for it.”

_2…_

“You'll have to live the rest of your life with the knowledge that you killed your childhood friend—"

_1…_

“—and his final thought was that he hated you more than anything else.”

_Fire._

This is where it ends, Keito tells himself, finally pressing down against the trigger.

Except it doesn't.

Because Keito's arm jerks, and just after the stutter of the gunshot finishes ringing in his ears, he can hear, faintly, Eichi's labored breathing, almost like he's hyperventilating.

He opens his eyes to see pure terror contorting Eichi's features, and realizes that he ended up shooting at the concrete.

“You were serious…” he hears Eichi mumble, and though it's clearly not meant for his ears, he still shakes his head, because there's no way he could seriously think about being the reason that Eichi dies. Eichi clears his throat, though it doesn't hold its desired effect, because his voice is still gravelly when he speaks.

“You said you'd at least make it quick, Keito. Was that also a lie?” Eichi grits his teeth and scowls, and Keito can't help but want to lament about how he's never seen that expression directed towards anyone else, only him. “ _I won't leave you, Eichi; I'll support you no matter what, Eichi; I love you, Eichi; I'll make your death quick, Eichi…_ do you ever stop lying!? What, do you seriously think that you're not allowed to tell me the truth, that this ‘spoiled young master’ can only be told what he wants to hear!? Or did you think that I'd be happy as long as it came from you!? You're despicable, you bastard! You incorrigible bast—"

“—Do you seriously think that I'd spend my entire life trying to keep you alive only to kill you without hesitation?”

Eichi's expression twists, from pure rage, to a face of absolutely livid insanity, like he's no longer human.

“You say that, and yet, after throwing away all of your dreams to stay with me and making me feel like a demon in the process, you just went and abandoned me in a few days!”

“It wasn't you, I—"

“Don't even try to tell me that you love me,” Eichi snarls. “You never did, did you? You only stayed with me because you knew that I would love you unconditionally, right? Because you knew you were the only one I was able to befriend, right? Because you knew it'd be impossible for me to disregard you, right?”

“No, Eichi.” Keito's trembling voice cracks on the second syllable of Eichi's name, and he can't stop the way that his shoulders start to shake. It gets too hard to try and hold back the torrent raging inside him, so, surging forward to envelop Eichi in a hug and bury his face in the blonde's shoulder, Keito lets a strangled sob be muffled against the fabric of his blazer.

He squeezes his arms around Eichi's torso, and even though he's worried that Eichi will collapse if he's too rough, he doesn't hesitate to hold him close. He tries to explain himself between wails, finding it utterly ironic that he's the one crying before his target.

Eichi remains tense, alert, under Keito, sighing quietly. Maybe, he can make out what Keito's saying, but even so, he shows no reaction, and just carefully leans his head back against the wall.

When Keito finally pulls away, it's only for a moment, because in the next, his hands  —rough, calloused, unfit to feel Eichi's skin — cup Eichi's cheeks, and force him to tilt his head so they can meet in a kiss.

It's not really satisfying in any way, it's not passionate, or sweet, or loving, or anything like that, but it's enough to settle his nerves slightly. Holding his lips against Eichi's is just another excuse for him to lie to himself and think: hey, things aren't as bad as they could be.

“I'm sorry that I'm still in love with you,” Keito sighs against Eichi's lips, a warm breeze making its way to caress Eichi, and delude Keito once more, into thinking that there's some way to fix things.

“You know I hate you.”

“I know.”

“You lied to me, you abandoned me, and you tried to kill me.”

“I know.”

“…You're impossible.” He looks _so tired,_ like he's barely managing to keep his eyes open, a resigned look on his face as he leans further away.

Only now does Keito remember Eichi's injury from earlier, parting from Eichi with a jolt as he hurries to take off his blazer and hold against the back of his head.

“Ow,” Eichi whines quietly, obviously not meant for Keito's ears, but he still hears it. One of Eichi's elbows twists forward to try and shove Keito's hand away, but it's so limp that it hardly feels like a nudge. “Just let me die.”

“No.” It's a simple refusal, one that's always waiting on the tip of Keito's tongue whenever Eichi considers dying. “It's not that bad, anyway, the worst that's going to happen is you passing out.”

“Will you kill me after that happens?”

“Why would I be tending to your wounds if I'm just going to kill you in the end?” He can't keep the edge out of his voice, and he can see it dip Eichi's scowl further.

“I don't know… you're such a hypocrite. And I told you to stop touching me.”

Keito has no plans to stop, dropping his hands to Eichi's waist to hold him steady, because he knows that Eichi will probably collapse the moment that support leaves him. He feels Eichi's ragged breathing against his shoulder and the strain of his muscles as he tries to push Keito off, just standing there as Eichi pants. He strokes one hand up Eichi's side in an attempt to soothe him, but all he manages to draw is a shiver.

Still, it's not like Eichi can just keep his eyes open, and after a few more disgruntled groans, his breathing slowly grows even.

It's been so long since Keito last saw him sleep, and, especially under these circumstances, it terrifies him. Those sharp, rapid inhalations from before are replaced with the painfully slow draw of oxygen into his lungs, slow enough to suggest he's moments away from death. Wrapping his arms around Eichi's torso, he carefully leans the top of the limp body in his arms back to examine his face.

His lip is pursed into a frown, pained and angry in a way that doesn't suit him, prompting Keito to remove the handcuffs. Quickly, he hoists Eichi over his shoulder, before realizing that that sort of handling might be too rough, and moving the body into his arms. Luck is on his side, he drove in with his own car, so it's just a matter of walking the two miles to where he inconspicuously left it. With Eichi in his arms. In the dead of night.

This, obviously, isn't the best of plans, but nothing that transpired tonight was planned, so it's not like he has much choice in the matter. Still, it's better than having to walk all the way home with Eichi.

Home, he thinks, without even thinking about what he's going to do with Eichi. Is this a kidnapping? Is taken his enemy into his apartment stupid? Yes, and yes, but right now, feeling that weight pressed up against his chest, slowly moving with each labored breath, he can't find himself to think of Eichi as the enemy.

His arms ache by the time he reaches his car, doing his best to be quick about getting Eichi in, because even if this area was deserted, that's no excuse for sloppiness. Once they're both in the car, and buckled —  he will never understand why Kuro has such a distaste for such basic safety precautions — he gives himself a moment to relax, trying to push away the thoughts that Eichi's agency will be looking for him, dead or alive.

Watching the road carefully becomes a distraction from that thought, and before he knows it, those roads and turns lead him to his apartment, a small little thing, not at all ostentatious compared to what Eichi lives in. No one's asleep, so he rushes Eichi into the complex, and then to his own apartment. He struggles to turn the light on with his shoulder for a moment, before everything clicks into view under the haze of fluorescent lights.

First stop: the bathroom, so that he can check on Eichi's wounds and bandage them properly. He manages to get Eichi seated on a stool, pressed between Keito and the counter in order to keep upright. He works with deathly precision, making sure not to cause any unnecessary harm to the body in front of him. Then, it's back in Keito's arms for Eichi, and the two are on their way to Keito's bedroom.

Setting Eichi down at the foot of his bed, he retreats into his drawers to find some clothes. He figures a sweatshirt and a pair of boxers will do well enough, so he pulls out two sets then focuses on the task of undressing Eichi.

Eichi is the perfect mannequin, he notices, holding an unwavering grace despite his pliancy, fragile and doll-like, yet strong in his beauty. When he admires Eichi's naked form, it isn't out of libido, but rather, a genuine admiration for the ethereality of the body under him — pale skin pulled taut over his silhouette, the ivory expanse only disrupted by the presence of scars, but even they aren't a problem, because each has its own story to tell, each has scarred both this beautiful body and the wonderful soul it houses inside.

The shirt hangs suspiciously loose on Eichi, and, examining the tag, he realizes why. _It's Kiryu's, huh._ But he doesn't change it, because fatigue has begun to settle into his bones. Taking Eichi back into his arms, he finally sets to work at getting him tucked in to bed.

Every movement is deliberate, from the way Keito sets Eichi down on side of the bed, to the way he lifts up the covers on one side and moves Eichi over to it, to the way he wraps the blanket around Eichi gently yet firmly, and kisses his forehead softly. It's so tempting to get in with him, to hold him in his sleep, and kiss him, and love him, but he's already indulged himself enough, so, giving Eichi's figure a final longing glance, he shuts the lights, and prepares for an uncomfortable night sleeping on the couch.

Turns out, he's so tired that it doesn't matter, because he sleeps soundly, only to be awakened by a weight on his torso. His eyes are still heavy when he senses something sharp drifting against his neck: a knife. Panic becomes its own knife, sinking into his consciousness and urging him to wake up faster.

“Keito~”

Ah, that voice is familiar, and from where he hears it, he has a pretty good idea of what position the two of them are in. When he can finally make out the rest of the world (he must've forgotten to take his glasses off last night), the first thing he sees is Eichi. The other man straddles his stomach, holding a knife above his throat. Despite the lilt in his voice, Eichi's expression is cold as ice, beating down into him relentlessly.

“No good morning?”

Keito stays silent, knowing there's little he could do that wouldn't risk his throat getting slit. He just stares up at Eichi, hoping that his glare is still scary enough to frighten Eichi.

“What happened to you, Keito? Suddenly so quick to give up entirely, hm?”

“Like you have the right to talk. You know, I can see your wrists perfectly from here.”

“Wh— Oh.” His voice falls flat, and his thighs tense around Keito's torso.

“You didn't notice?”

“Shut up, you're the bastard who noticed right away. You're just a sick pervert who enjoys humiliating his opposition just to get a rise out of them.”

“It's kind of hard not to notice when those same hands are focused on trying to kill me.”

Eichi grunts, leaning back over Keito so that they're face to face. The knife stays poised over Keito's neck, ever eager to sink into his skin. That's surely what Eichi wants, especially considering the glint in his eye, but it doesn't move from his neck.

“I thought just killing you in your sleep would be a waste. Before I go, I have some questions I want you to answer for me.” It's tempting for Keito to butt in and remind Eichi of just how powerful he is, how easy it would be for him to just find these answers elsewhere, without blood or this painful game of cat and mouse. Seemingly noticing the contempt in Keito's expression, Eichi grins, but there's none of the childlike amusement that Keito would have hoped to be in it. Instead, it's more of a smirk, and coupled with the haze in his eyes that suggests he's dreaming, he almost seems drunk, or delusional, which is dangerous considering he has Keito pinned to the couch and is holding a knife.

“And besiiiides…” Eichi starts, falsetto tapering off at the end of his sentence to reveal the terrifying darkness in the depths of his voice. “I think I'd ought to return the favor, and give my _precious_ childhood friend a nice, painful send-off while he's still wide-awake~”

Not letting his anxiousness show, Keito moves his hands up Eichi's bare thighs to grasp his hips and hold him there. “What do you want me to tell you?”

“Where is Kiryu? The HQ? Your subordinates homes?”

“I’m not telling you that.”

“You're in no position to tell me what I can or can't force you to do.” The knife slides against Keito's skin, not pressing in, but leaving his neck covered in a cold sweat.

“You're the one locked in _my_ apartment.”

Eichi just huffs, finally letting the knife draw blood, a quick, sharp pain that leaves him hissing before the knife is replaced with Eichi's fingers, gently stroking his wound as he stares at it with a dazed expression. “That won't be for long.”

A few seconds pass with Eichi just holding him down, letting the blood collect on his fingertips. One at a time, he licks it off each finger, and Keito is subjected to watching with an awful sense of thrill and anxiety, boiling deep within him, as his childhood friend's lips and tongue are dyed red.

Another minute passes in silence, Eichi cruelly capturing Keito's gaze as one corner of his bloodstained lips curls up into a smirk, barely obscured by the finger that commands Keito's attention. Knife neatly poised over Keito's throat yet again, he's somehow the picture of elegance, the dim lights casting shadows over his pale skin and bare thighs, till his milky complexion is closer to an egret white.

“Well?”

He knows he should answer, but the drumming in his chest keeps him more or less preoccupied, as he's filled with the familiar sensation of _wanting._ He's always been like this wanting more and more around Eichi, wanting to be closer, wanting to command his attention, wanting his praise, wanting his love. It's a different kind of want, this one, because he isn't sure if he wants Eichi to get off and go far away, or if he wants to keep holding Eichi down by his hips and see how far they can push this twisted game.

“I… I can't just abandon them like that. If I fail, then I'm the one who should take the fall, not them.”

“Oh, look at you, admirably proving your loyalty to a group of criminals,” Eichi sneers, voice less insulting and more… upset, frustrated, angry?

“They're not just some criminals, Eichi, they're—"

“I _know,”_ Eichi snaps, finally drawing his fingers away from his lips. “Whatever they are, they're special enough that they managed to steal you away.”

"They didn't steal me away. I left of my own volition.”

Something burns in Eichi's expression as he huffs frustratedly. “You're really not helping your case, you know.”

“I know.”

Moments pass like that, just the two of them connected at their hips and stomach, lost in the space they've built between them and the void where they know the other should be.

“It's not your fault I left,” Keito finally admits. “It was a personal thing. I just didn't feel any drive towards anything the agency did, so that left me no options but to leave.”

“And join a group of criminals? You? Don't make me laugh, Keito.” His shoulders tense, and in turn, he subconsciously loosens his grip on Keito's sides and knife. _Just a little more pushing…_ “The only explanation is that I did something.”

“Of course not.” And this is what it all comes down to, Keito tells himself, coaxing his voice into something sweeter, more affectionate. “I'm in love with you, Eichi.” Yes, this should do the trick — after all, not just anything can get Eichi to stop in his tracks like that. Just for good measure, Keito smiles fondly up at him, running the hands on Eichi's hips up his sides soothingly, in what could be misconstrued as an act of affection. “Ever since we were children, it's been that way. I gave up everything just for the chance of getting closer to you…” He keeps talking, and once Eichi's distracted enough, he discreetly pries the knife out of Eichi's hands, holding it off the couch once he's done. “... Do you really think I'd give all that up so suddenly? Even if you doubt it, Eichi, even if I have to leave your side for personal reasons, those feelings won't change.”

Eichi huffs a bitter laugh. “I'm the entire reason you joined the agency, so if you had to leave, of course I'd be related, you lying bastard.” To drive his point, he tries to drive his knife into Keito's skin, but finds his empty fist being pressed against Keito's collarbone instead. For a minute, he frantically searches for his knife, finding it held out over the floor. Surging forward, he attempts to grab it, and nearly succeeds, but Keito managed to undermine his attempts completely, throwing the knife off and rolling over so that the two of them topple down into the floor, now a heap of skinny limbs.

He manages to hold Eichi against his chest, stomaching the pain of the repeated (yet weak due to their awkward position) barrage of punches to his gut.  

“Liar,” he hears Eichi hiss against his chest, and it manages to sting more than the knife had. “Liar.”

"I know."

"Then why…" he hears Eichi swallow, coupled with the sensation of tears being wiped against his shirt. "Why do you even bother? Why do you have to keep lying?"

There's silence, then the muffled sound of Eichi blowing his nose into Keito's sleeve.

"I don't want to see you cry," Keito admits after a minute.

"I wouldn't have cried at all if you hadn't lied from the start. You would've meant nothing to me." Eichi pulls back, facing Keito with a hysteric look in his eyes as he giggles. "Aren't I stupid? This entire time I thought you actually loved me — I thought that you were the one person I could put absolute faith in… but you were lying the entire time. You were just like everyone else, huh? So what was it, did you want to get into my pants or my wallet?"

"Your heart," Keito answers with absolute conviction. _Though your pants would be nice as an added bonus,_ he adds mentally, letting his eyes track over Eichi's thighs. "The entire time… I just wanted to reach your heart."

The giggling stops, and Eichi's eyes lose their hysteria. He parts his lips to speak, mouthing the word _liar,_ but no sound comes out, because a flush becomes evident on Keito's cheeks, and Eichi begrudgingly realizes that Keito is the worst liar on the planet.

"Don't say that," he orders, and then repeats himself again. Though its intended effect is to cement his order, his voice cracks and it sounds more like he's pleading. "Don't say that."

"It's the truth." With every syllable from Keito's lips, the distress on Eichi's face grows. "Even if you were to hold a knife to my throat and order me to say it's a lie, I'll still say it's the truth."

"Why? Haven't I stolen everything from you? Don't you hate what I'm doing at the agency?" Eichi's voice trembles freely now, being overtaken by a violent tremor every few words. "How can you still love me after that?"

Eichi doesn't wait for an answer, pushing himself off the floor.

"Wait," Keito halts him, grabbing onto his wrist.

"I think it's better if we go our separate ways, Keito. You and I aren't good for each other."

"That doesn't matter, I can't let you leave right now."

Keito tries to be authoritative, but his voice begins shaking and his hand trembles around Eichi's wrist.

Eichi stares at him in disbelief.

"You don't trust me, Keito? Do you really think that I'd…"

"You're not thinking straight, Eichi, you could hurt yourself."

And now Eichi's gaping. " _That's_ what you're worried about?"

Keito just nods, trying to push himself to his feet but failing when Eichi kicks him down.

"Don't follow me," Eichi growls, and is off on his way.

Instead of going for the door or the knife, Eichi passes the couch towards Keito's bedroom. The sound of the door slamming seems to reverberate through the apartment, and it hits Keito's pulse dead on.

Wondering why all of his attempts to get his love to reach Eichi have failed, he realizes that although he had sung out his love countless times in the past few hours, he'd only been met with suspicion and doubt.

The revelation stings, enough to push Keito off the floor and towards his bedroom's door. He presses his back to the door, listening to Eichi sob into what must be a pillow.

Sliding down till he's seated against the door, Keito raises his voice just loud enough that Eichi can hear.

"You asked why I love you so much…" he starts, pulling his knees into his chest. When Eichi's sobs quiet down, he continues. "No matter what you do, you do it with conviction, you always work so hard. You're always… full of love, you put so much love into everything you do. When you spend so much time around someone who never does anything half-heartedly, it only makes sense that you're unable to love that person half-heartedly."

The silence that follows grates against Keito's skin, until something heavy hits the door and he startles properly.

Whether Eichi threw it out of anger or embarrassment, he isn't sure, but Keito huffs the husk of a laugh.

It lies dull and heavy against his tongue, and despite himself, he finds himself adding this childishness to his mental list of the reasons that he loves Eichi.

**Author's Note:**

> This was so self indulgent I'm sorry


End file.
